


Contact

by robotmonarchy



Category: Futurama
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Other, also i have a headcanon that fry has seasonal depression, hugs are as good as sex ok, i love my codependent bbys, if not better, lfabm, set early season somewhat, why is that important?, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-04-09
Packaged: 2018-06-01 03:01:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6498199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/robotmonarchy/pseuds/robotmonarchy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bender's life made more sense when Fry wasn't around.<br/>He doesn't miss it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Contact

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday, Julia! I hope you have a wonderful 16th birthday! I think you're a great friend, and I truly hope you get enjoyment out of this fic!

The first time when Bender felt a human palm on his metal, it wasn't gentle. It was a hard hit that hurt the guy more than him really, and he laughed at his face before puffing cigarette smoke into his face. Bender never really cared for contact with humans. They were more fragile than the grass he stepped on when there was a sign that said it was illegal to do it. And they were blowhards, who only remembered robots existed when it was to serve them a cup of wine. Bender knew he was better off. He didn't quite care for touch from other robots either, since Bender learned they weren't any friendlier. They were machines that treated Bender like an alien. Who needs that in their lives? Not him, anyway. Sex was never really sex with gentle holding and hushed whispers either, it was just fuck sessions, dirty and quick, and Bender taught himself to believe it was better this way. Life is better with no attachments or heartache. Bender was reminded of this everyday.

* * *

Fry's palms were warm. When humans are angry, everything down to their temperature turns aggressive. Not Fry. Fry is usually happy, as if maybe his demeanor is what actually keeps warm. Does he even need the sun? And no matter what pranks Bender pulls on him—from stealing his wallets and replacing the cash with monopoly dollars—to tripping him as he walks past him—he doesn't get angry. Irritated, maybe. Bruised? Most likely. But angry, no, not really, anyway. 

Sometimes it even unnerved Bender. Robots, had to be cold. They were walking computers with even more spare processors and fans. Bender's been told he's warm for a robot, but the gentle placement of Fry's palm on his shoulder makes him feel like a penguin's freezer in Antarctica.

Though Fry never seemed to mind. He never seemed to mind about a lot of what Bender is.

It didn't make sense at all. Humans were supposed to ugly bags of water, inferior to robots in every aspect possible. His programming long since concluded that they were better off extinct. And certainly, this all still applied to Fry. But Bender finds himself more saddened by the mere thought of Fry no longer being around every day. Bender's waves on his mouth plate gritted in frustration. Why did Fry have to be so...so _different_?

* * *

"Hey Bender," Fry begins. It’s another day of watching All My Circuits, and Bender couldn’t be more invested in this re-run if he tried.  

"What is it?" Bender doesn’t bother to conceal annoyance in his voice.

"I've been wondering...Since you're a robot and all..." Fry looks down and rubs the back of his neck. Bender's stare makes Fry nervous sometimes, he's noted. Therefore, he continues staring.

"Go on..." His digital eyes transform to looking confused, almost as if he had a raised eyebrow.

"Well, can you feel?" Fry asks. He braves to look at Bender.

Its like a stab at the heart. If he had one. Bender rose from the couch. "What kind of question is _that_?" His fist clench at the words, he knew it was a bad idea to be friends with humans, he knew-

Even Fry can sense Bender's agitated, in rush he says, "I want to make sure you can feel it if I hug you!"

Bender's fists fall. "Oh." Oh.

"Yeah, oh." Fry gazed at Bender cautiously, "Don't robots hug?"

Bender crossed his arms, his optics turned into thin yellow lines of indignation. "Not this robot."

Fry stood up from the couch and smiled. Bender always thought there was something secure in the way Fry smiled. Fry raised his arms wide. "Want to try?" He invited.

Bender eyes him cautiously, as if scanning to see if there any trick, any threat, which could be accomplished with a hug on his person. He figured Fry wasn't smart enough to do any harm. Thing is, there's nothing logical about the human practice of hugs. As far as Bender could tell, what benefit could there possibly be in obtaining brief seconds of contact from another filthy human? Fry's smile is persuasive for some reason however, and Bender rolled his eyes and opened his arms in consent.

Fry chuckles before wrapping his arms around Bender's metal body. He’s engulfed in heat in the shape of Fry’s body and to Bender it’s the most foreign thing. Fry squeezes tight, and Bender assumes that he's supposed to reciprocate and wraps his arms too. _("Uh, Bender_ _—")_ Some part of Bender is lost in sensation. He can smell cheese and the ever persistent aroma of beer. And Fry is soft, so soft, he squeezes tighter just to get a feel of how soft he is. _("Um. Bender!")_ Bender couldn’t come up with any words to describe a hug. The word “nice” is the only adjective that comes to mind. Something about this reminds Bender that he's not alone, he can't be alone if Fry is here to hug him, he can't be alone if-

"Bender! Pal, I can't breathe." Fry chokes out.

Immediately Bender unravels his arms and Fry is free to hunch over and take a few ragged breaths. Bender stares at nothing. What just happened?

"Huff," Fry begins, grinning, "Well? How was that?"

Bender glares out of his distant staring, acting nonchalant as he pulls a cigarette from his chest cabinet. "Eh, I've had better."

Puzzled, Fry asks, "But you just said-"

"Anyway meatbag, I'm going out. Don't wait up for me." He chuckles as he approaches their door.

"Uh, oh, okay. Cya later I guess?" Fry's hand rifles through his own hair. For something built to be so logical, Bender didn't make sense at all.

"Mm-hm." Bender exits. Fry shrugs, and is only about to sit down again and channel surf, when Bender rushes back in. "Be—" He's caught up by strong, metal contact of a hug, but its brief. Bender rushes out again, leaving no opportunity to explain to Fry what happened.

Fry finds himself confused, yet again, though he finds he doesn't mind.

* * *

Fry realizes that since that day he does it more. Hugs, that is. And Fry is simply delighted. Every squeeze Bender gives him is a little less painful than the last--almost as if he was trying to be careful with Fry for once.

Robots are strong. Hard metal, it takes extreme pressure or heat to forge them standing. Since he met Bender there's been no many accidents where bruises occur. Not because Bender was deliberately trying to hurt him (not in those moments anyway) but because this robot forgets how fragile humans are compared to him. Fry should be afraid when Bender pats him on the shoulder or greets him with a hug, but he isn't. He doesn't know why.

But one morning where Fry wakes up bedridden from a good ol' fever, his first instinct to call the only person in the apartment: _"Benderrrr!"_

With enough calling, Bender slams the door to Fry's room open, "Cut the wailing, a robot is trying to get his beauty sleep-cycle here!"

"Bender..." Fry pauses to cough, "I think I'm dying."

The bot approaches him cautiously, as if even being near the sweaty human could be a threat to him. "So do you have some kind of virus or something? Forgot to update your anti-malware programs?"

Fry prefers to believe Bender is joking, and slinks deeper into his bed. "So hot. I need to know what temperature I am." Fry looks at Bender, as if searching for a detail he's missed on his robot body. It makes Bender cross his arms.

"Dontcha have a thermometer or something?"

"A thermometer?" Bender echoes. "Do I look like your nurse?"

"Common," He pleads, "You gotta have something, like in your finger or something." 

For a moment, Bender looks at his metal claws, and back at Fry again. "So what?" He ignores, "Its probably good enough just to check your forehead, meatbag." Fry doesn’t need to know when he’s right.

And to Fry's mild amazement, Bender's heavy metal palm, strong enough to bend steel girders, is light on his forehead, feathering his skin with the tips of his fingers, bringing a cold relief on his otherwise warm face.

"Meh," Bender retracts his hand and Fry frowns, "I'm no doctor, but I think you'll live."

If Bender stays with him, Fry is willing to agree.

* * *

Water balloon is leaking again. And by that, Bender knows, that Fry is crying. He can hear it past thin walls and across the hallway. If Bender were still dozing in the small space just before the real apartment door, he'd be spared from the annoyance vocal human annoyances. But now he sleeps in a room just across Fry's, for reasons no one questions. Fry can't be trusted alone really, the boy is precious but dense. Bender reasons it’s probably the safest for both of them if he's close enough to stop random fires.

But lately Fry just doesn't. Stop. Crying. It grates on Bender, with more inches than the last. He wishes that Fry could just turn off his emotions, but not even Bender could do that. Trust him, he's been trying. There’s a few months of peace from the guy, and then all of sudden, BAM! Waterworks USA! And it’s always the same darn thing.

_"Wah, Bender, why does no one love me?"_

_"Wah, Bender, my entire family’s dead!"_

_"Wah, Bender, I'm all alone!"_

How could Fry feel that way when Bender is right there? A hallway away? He could be family, be could keep Fry company, he could—

Well, it’s best to check on what it is today.

He knocks on the room to Fry's door. The small posters that say, "Stay Out Bender!" seem to be less and less relevant as the days go on. On the other side, Bender can process the faint sounds of sniffling, the scuffling of a man in Star Trek pajamas and SpongeBob themed slippers open a creak at the door. "Sorry Bender," Fry greets, "I'll try to quiet down."

Fry's eyes are swollen from tears and his cheeks are stained from the salt the escapes them. Even from the small slit of a doorway, Fry looks miserable. Bender doesn't understand emotions, he barely understands his own, but he understands the frustration that manifests itself on Bender's face. There has to be something he could do about this. Anything. "Make way, dullhorn." Bender declares just before swinging the door wide, letting himself in.

Fry looks vulnerable. "Bender—"

"What's wrong meatbag? Why are you sad all the time? What will it take to make you feel better?" He stabs a finger on Fry's chest, demanding answers. His insolence in being sad in Bender's area will no longer be ignored.

Fry looks down, ashamed. This isn't what Bender wanted. "I don't know," Fry says helplessly, his hands roll into bundles and his shoulders shake from trying to contain his tears.

Bender falters, and he thinks, he could almost panic. He can't steal some guy's happiness and give it Fry…Could he? There's no way to scam Fry into feeling better either. All of his usual tricks to cheer Fry up, won't work, he know it won't work, because Bender barely works. What would a human do in this situation?

 _What would Fry do?_ Bender thinks, and in doing so, Bender says, "Hey, meatbag." and lifts his arms.

Fry squints his eyes. He's exhausted and sad, and he's not ready for a prank from Bender.

Bender rolls his eyes, and pulls Fry into a hug. Fry stills.

And then he cries into the crook of where Bender's shoulder and head connects. He clings to Bender, as if maybe he'll disappear if he doesn't hold on tight enough. The robot lets him, it doesn't hurt. He's not sure what do exactly, but he does as Fry would, and gestures circles into the small of Fry's back. Just waiting, waiting for Fry's sad to just be over.

Eventually, Fry's chocking settles, he disengages to wipe his face with his stained _Enterprise_ themed sleeve. "Thanks, Bender. I needed that." He grins, and the tightness in Bender's chest cavity settles. Bender lifts a palm to Fry's face, and Fry's smile falters but lingers. He tells himself he's trying to inspect the work tears can do on humans. When Bender cries nothing physical happens really, but Fry always has redness in his nose and eyes to remind him how fragile humans really are indeed.

There's nothing more than Bender wants right now that to bring Fry close. The stench of Slurm from his breath should be enough to want to push Fry far, far away into the dumpster he belongs, but Bender still allows the palm on Fry's cheek to rest, even drawing himself closer. His optics fall to the view of Fry's thin lips ever so often.

Fry swallows, apprehensive. "You can, if you want to."

Bender stills a simulated breath and looks at Fry. Did he hear right?

Fry nods minutely.

When they connect, Bender is eager, and desperate, but Fry couldn't ignore how there's still something gentle about the buzz of electricity that dances on Fry's lips and tongue.

"Mmph!" One metal hand shoves Fry hard enough that his falls flat on his mattress and Bender only pauses to hoist himself over him and continue.

 _It’s as if Bender thinks this is a dream_ , Fry thinks. Is it? Could he be right? How late is it anyway? Fry exhales in-between the kiss, and it’s enough to have Bender disengage. Bender looks confused, scared, even, and seconds away of spilling a rare apology from his voice.

"Don't stop." Fry says. _Its okay_ , is what he doesn't say, but on look on Bender's eyes says that he understood anyway.

Bender finds he doesn't know how this happened, he doesn't know if this will last, but if Fry were to never leave, he knows that would be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope,, that was okay.  
> (Cecylia, pls. Just. Pls.)


End file.
